Chapter 78: Romance: Classic and Not-so-Classic

Thursday, March 28, 1985

Today was the last day to vote in A&M’s student government election. Since we weren’t ones to pass up a chance to vote, we headed to the MSC and did our civic duty.

It was strange to neither be a candidate nor know any of the candidates, but that’s life at a big university. Things might change in the future, but I wasn’t banking on it.

I dropped by the Health Center in the afternoon. Luckily, I only had to wait about half an hour. The doctor I saw, Doctor Cameron, was a middle-aged woman. She inspected my knee, manipulated it a bit while asking if this, that, or the other thing hurt, then pronounced me ‘reasonably cured.’

She strongly recommended wearing a knee brace while skiing in the future, not only for me (I should be ‘good as new’) but for all of us. They might slightly affect how quickly we could react, but we weren’t competition skiers and guarding against injury was far more important than ultra-quick reaction times.

I told her we would almost certainly take that advice. I was all for protective gear when it made sense.

After the graffiti, we all wanted to get started on the fence as soon as possible. We just wanted to do it right, though, so I made a few calls to make sure of things.

No, College Station did not require any permits for privacy fences up to eight feet. No, our house was not deed-restricted to prohibit fencing (something I had seen before, though never in Texas). We weren’t required to provide any gates other than the ones we wanted, nor did anyone have an easement to cross our property. I called our property management company and made sure they knew our ‘landlord’ would confirm we had permission to build a fence if anyone asked.

Boxes checked, I’s dotted, and T’s crossed, we had a project. I wasn’t sure how quickly we could get it done, but the goal was within a month. That would make sure it was done and ready for Cammie and Mel to enjoy this summer.

And the rest of us, but we would probably be gone a significant part of the time. Might as well take advantage of summer breaks while we had them!

Jas and Katy made plans to go out for dinner at the mall and then window shop. I kidded her about what a ‘girl date’ that was, but she retorted (perfectly fairly) that they were both girls.

They might catch a movie, but that was up in the air. They might go out dancing, too — Dr. G’s was an option, as were several other clubs. Katy was under nineteen, which made other clubs ‘off the table’ for now.

Friday, March 29, 1985

Since this was a date, I met Claire at her dorm room (no Kay this time!) and walked with her to the MSC, holding hands and talking. We intentionally stuck to fairly light topics. I was starting to hear a clock running, but that clock would likely not run out until May. I was pretty sure it would run out no later than this summer. Claire wanted more than I could offer, and she should have it.

We might always be friends. Then again, some guys don’t do well with the idea of their girlfriend staying close to a former lover. Ours was an unusual case, and Claire might not even admit that we had been lovers, but it still was a concern.

It was, of course, a concern both ways. Some guys are just benignly insecure. Some, though, are threatened by any other guys being friends with ‘their woman.’ That can quickly become a problem.

Dinner was fun. We talked about favorite classic movies. To be fair, I referenced only ones I’d seen in this life. She had never seen ‘Laura’, while I’d never seen ‘Sunset Boulevard’ (this time around, anyway). We both loved ‘North by Northwest’, but she preferred ‘Vertigo’. Not that I had any problem with ‘Vertigo’!

Neither of us had seen ‘Casablanca’. That included my first life. It was one of the larger omissions in my ‘classic movie’ list, and I was happy to be crossing it off the list tonight.

Of course, that meant we needed to watch it. It would have made a terrible ‘Study Group movie’ back in the day. That was then and this was now, though. We could always go somewhere more private later.

We settled into our seats well before the movie started. It had drawn a decent crowd, but we still had empty seats on both sides of us.

We lost ourselves in the movie, of course. I’d expected to, but I still hadn’t counted on how much I lost myself in it. Such a great story! Such great performances! Some of the classics don’t hold up as well as perhaps they should, but ‘Casablanca’ was both fiercely of its time — World War II Europe — and also ‘timeless.’

So many lines that resonated through history, too. Many of them I’d used casually without being aware of where they came from. That would be true for tomorrow’s film, too: who hasn’t heard ‘We don’t need no stinkin’ badges!’? Relatively few people knew where it originated, though.

When we left, Claire said, “I always thought it was ‘Play it again, Sam.’ She never said that, though.”

I nodded.

“I noticed that,” I said.

“Sad, and hopeful, and ... a lot of things. I really like it!”

“Me, too!”

“Thanks for inviting me!” she said, suddenly spinning and hugging herself to me.

“Thank you for a most wonderful date,” I said.

“So,” she said, looking first back towards the Commons, then northward towards our house, “I suppose we need to make a decision.”

“Do we?” I said, adding just a hit of teasing.

“We do!”

“How about I start walking and, if you don’t like where we’re heading, you give me a little nudge?”

She giggled.

“I ... can do that.”

I took her hand and started heading north, toward the house and generally away from Mosher.

There was no nudge.

We spent the walk talking mostly about the movie, but also more about Golden Age movies in general. Claire was surprised by how restrained it was, which I attributed to the self-censorship of the movie industry at that time. Things we took for granted today (a woman leaving her husband for another man, for instance) were forbidden during the ‘Golden Age of Hollywood.’ Thus, for 1940s audiences, there was never any question of Ilsa remaining with Rick. Unless her husband had been killed (and not by Rick!), she had to go with him. The only question was how.

For us, seeing it at a forty-year remove, that had been an open question. Even when one knows the Golden Age rules, it’s easy to gloss over them and take Ilsa’s fidelity as an open question, not a fait accompli.

Claire made an interesting parallel to us, saying movie love triangles work because of an inherent tension. Two people must, eventually, wind up together. Three cannot.

That’s not necessarily true for everyone, of course. I mentioned Emily, Mark, and Morty. She found that whole thing fascinating.

It wasn’t, of course, what she was hinting at. The truth was, Claire wanted ‘the one,’ and I wasn’t ‘the one.’ I was close, but we both knew I wasn’t the person she needed to build the life she wanted.

But, then, Rick hadn’t been the one Ilsa needed in the end, no matter how much she loved him. In the end (though not without being pressured into it), Ilsa left Rick, just as she had done before.

We both agreed: after the war (assuming they all survived) Rick and Ilsa might reestablish ties and might even be long-time friends. She wouldn’t try to rekindle things with Rick yet again, though.

Both of us knew we were partly talking about each other, and both of us knew that was fine. It wasn’t time for Claire to board the plane and fly, but that day would come. It would be bittersweet, but we always have the choice to cherish the sweet rather than lose ourselves in the bitter.

As we left campus and crossed into Northgate, the topic shifted to romance in general rather than ‘Casablanca’. How, for instance, the great Tracy/Hepburn romances had reinvigorated the genre by presenting the female lead as someone just as tough and capable (sometimes more!) as the male lead. Claire had some Hepburn in her. Perhaps I had some Tracy in me, too.

After verifying the basement apartment was dark, I let us in and turned on the outside light as I did so. Should Jas and Katy attempt to use it, that should clue them in.

Once we were in, it took all of a second before we were in each other’s arms, hugging and kissing. And kissing. And kissing still more.

More than a few clothes mysteriously vanished during the kissing, as they seem to do. There’s only so much disrobing one can manage unconsciously, but we pushed the limit on that.

Once we separated, panting, I locked the door that led to the rest of the house, then pulled Claire back into my arms again.

She grinned, kissed me, then nodded to the bedroom. We headed in together. When we got to the bed, she grinned and said, “Let me!” as her hands started working on removing the remainder of my clothing.

I grinned as she stripped me. When she slid my underwear off, she planted a kiss on my cock, then rose and gave me a playful shove backward toward the bed. I laid down, of course.

She gave a playful growl, then moved onto the bed, quickly sucking my cock into her mouth.

“Didn’t ... get to ... try this ... last time,” she said, bobbing her head up and down.

“Be my guest,” I said.

She giggled a bit.

“You’re lucky I like you!” she said, snapping her teeth together.

“Yes, I am,” I said.

That got a blush, which she covered by going right back to sucking.

I didn’t last especially long, though I wasn’t on a hair-trigger either. Before long, I said, “I’m gonna...”

She sped up, using both her mouth and her hand.

Before long, I was exploding into her mouth. I think it might have been more than she expected, but she did fine. After I’d finished, she kinda rolled it around her mouth a bit, then swallowed.

“That was fun,” she said, giggling.

“It was,” I said, giving her a kiss.

As several other girls had, she tried to turn her head as I started to kiss her. And, as with them, I was having none of it. After a second or two, she moaned and just started kissing back.

After we broke the kiss, she said, “I should’ve known you would do that! You’re the first guy who ever has.”

“If I don’t think I can kiss you after, what does that say about my thoughts about you doing it?”